Ask Something of Love


To ask nothing of Love
might reduce it—
to words, and pauses, and silences;
and the feeling of tangling together,
as it traces circles on your palm
with its thumb

To ask nothing of Love
might deny it
tempered moments
in hot cars in traffic;
and the days that follow,
when you choose each other
again

To ask nothing of Love
might misplace it
until its lost and forgotten,
and takes with it the actions
“nagging women demand”

To ask something of Love
might annoy it,
and hurt it,
and drive it away

But to ask something of Love
might restore us
and teach Love to love the right way

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